by Scott Moon
Solaa spread her jaws and spat venom and blood at Droon. “Please your queen. Please Solaa!”
Droon inhaled, drawing his shoulders back and his ribcage wide. Peculiar emotions boiled inside; none of them were good or right for what he must do. The sky of Betaoin filled the horizon. Sand eroded from the edges of his taloned feet and his swishing tail. Clingers chittered in the night and he hated them.
Just as he had hated every moment of the long hunt.
Solaa screamed at his back.
He didn’t like it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Droon Lies
“WATCH.” Droon turned from Solaa and her warriors. The correct way to hunt the Clingers was to creep forward, slip into their defenses, and hurt them only when they believed they had won.
She believed my lie? Will she believe another? Can I fool every warrior in her troop? Droon snapped his teeth shut several times and snorted. Yes. Droon is a good liar!
He jumped as high as he could and landed in a crouch, preparing his muscles for action. Caga and the others nodded and snarled in appreciation.
They were fools.
Droon performed the act again. He showed his teeth, extended his claws, and beat his fists on his chest.
The Clingers gathered into a knot of spitting hate.
“Kill them!” Solaa began the dance for death.
Droon sprang over the first wave of Clingers and scattered them. One flipped through the air and landed on Caga’s face. The Reaper tumbled down the hill, rolling in a cloud of red dust until he came up holding a dead Clinger.
Droon batted Clingers right and left. He jumped high in the air and landed on a pile of the monsters as they rolled into tubes and attempted to slither away like fat snakes. Zykzym and Muzd chased another as Solaa watched. Her spines twitched in the wind. Arousal changed the color of her spots and caused venom to ooze from her mouth.
Howling at the wolves until they drew away from the carnage, Droon waded into the thickest part of the Clinger mass. He snatched the trembling hive queen and wrestled the creature onto his back.
“What is Droon doing?” Solaa ran toward him on all fours, stopped, and bared her teeth.
Droon slipped a second piece of Clinger armor onto his back. He could barely see the light of his home world because his mind fought to enslave the parasites.
We hate Droon.
Soon living armor covered him. Solaa’s warriors crowded around, eyes glowing with battle lust.
Wolves howled. Droon chased them across the red dirt-sand, tackled the alpha wolf, and forced it to yield. When the animal rolled on its back and exposed its throat, Droon turned away from it. Even an extra moment of attention to the beast would signal the other animals that Droon feared the alpha wolf and was not in charge. So he turned his back on the proud creature that had dominated this pack until Droon bested it.
He strode closer to Solaa and the other Reapers, then glanced over his shoulder. He howled. The wolves gathered, faced him, and slunk across the ground.
“Droon is a coward. Droon cannot kill the things that must be killed,” Solaa said, each word quiet and laced with menace.
“Droon must hunt.” He left Solaa and her warriors and led his Crashdown pack into the desert wilderness. Caga and the others fed on the Clingers that hadn’t bonded with Droon.
Hunting the dangerous terrain of Betaoin felt natural. Droon felt strong and tried not to think of the Burning One. He brought down a Darguul, broke apart the bony ridges, and feasted on living meat. The monster was bigger than Droon remembered and the sound of its terror energized him. He wondered if Solaa listened to the sound of his kill and feared him.
Droon will not allow the Burning One to hunt among the Kindred. He forgot the battles already lost. There was no reason to remember.
The wolves ate when he told them to eat but seemed afraid to approach the dying monster. He killed it and watched them soak their faces in red meat. When the first sated itself, Droon summoned the wolf to lie at his feet and rubbed its fur. He crooned to the animal as though it were a Reaper child. When night came, Droon had seen that all of his pack were fed and shown how to bring water from scrub plants and from under rocks and sand.
He forgot about Solaa, but when he remembered her, his sense of strength wavered.
Clingers moaned in his mind. He beat them into submission, leaving the wolf pack until he was in control. Then he returned and sat with the pack as they slept.
Droon is strange. Running from Reapers. Lying down with wolves. Feeding the Clingers with his flesh.
His heart beat an odd rhythm and he sensed the spirit Kin-rol-an-da called fear.
Droon is afraid. Droon can’t be afraid. Droon will die.
Fear keeps you alive. Never forget that.
The voice of Kin-rol-an-da wasn’t real. It was something he said in a dream, or perhaps a memory. The sound was vague and formless, part of Droon’s sleep, faraway.
Why must I think in words? The habit made Droon uneasy. Dream sickness came with the human invasion. The native creatures of Betaoin possessed minds similar to Reapers, less rational, less complex, less fearful. During his time on Crashdown, he puzzled out his problem. The human mind was perforated with repetitions of one question: what if?
What if I die? What if my fear is discovered? What if I win? Lose? Forget? Remember?
Droon had crossed to the wrong side of fear only once. Now the door was open and a force pulled him toward questions. If I doubt, I will fear. I will die.
How did Kin-rol-an-da live this way? Why couldn’t Droon forget the man?
Droon squatted, crossed his long arms around his knees, and slept. He awoke to the sound of Reapers on the move. The front-runner slowed and issued a keening whistle. A dozen or more warriors in the center clicked and growled, occasionally stopping to dig a creature from the sand-dirt and swallow it whole. The rear runners made no sound. If the time came for battle, and Solaa ordered a charge, the entire formation would rotate, wheeling in place as those in the rear circled to the front for a surprise flank attack.
Solaa and the others didn't know what a flank attack was, or what a scout on point or even a rear guard was, but they had no need of words. This was how war parties of Reapers always moved. Victory was in speed and surprise. Victory was forgetting the possibility of failure and death.
Kin-rol-an-da fought like a Reaper, but that was because he was mind sick. Droon understood the man. He'd been in his nightmares many times, had seen things even Reapers ran from, and witnessed his death wish.
Broken Kin-rol-an-da, not fit to be hunted or to hunt. Why does Droon remember him? Droon took the blood knowledge. Droon needs nothing from him.
Shapes passed in the night, close enough to rouse the wolves but not the Clingers.
Light flashed in the distance; the Burning One killed something.
Droon bounded after Solaa’s pack but didn't approach the Reaper Queen until she stopped and squatted among her warriors to sleep.
He crept past Caga and the others and found Solaa watching his approach.
“You seize the portal from the winged woman,” Solaa said.
Droon squatted.
Solaa twitched one claw.
Droon hopped back. He measured the width of her stance, the tension in her thigh muscles, and decided she was not ready to attack. In the distance, night wind drove clouds of sand-dirt into the sky. The silhouette of her spines waved against the turbulent landscape behind her. Her eyes glowed through slits.
“You speak of Cla-ven-da. She would not open a wormhole from this place,” Droon said.
“Droon uses too many human words.” She studied him. “Where the Red Sorrow meets the mountains and Droon will find Cla-ven-da. Humans serve a Mimic King while the burning champion runs wild with hate. The winged woman is dangerous. Solaa commands Droon to capture her. Solaa commands Droon to destroy the Mimic champion.”
Droon thought of the female Reapers torn to pieces on the hill. Queens did
n’t tolerate female rivals. She would kill Cla-ven-da, feed on her nightmares and flesh. Did he wish this to happen? Why should he care?
Solaa was Kindred.
Solaa was Queen of lesser queens, Mother of the Kindred now.
He snarled ritual defiance, then fell to his knees, crawling toward her. The charade felt stranger than anything he had done. Clingers pressed on his back, reminding him of who he was, where he had been, what he had done. I am Droon. He turned his face up and accepted her dripping venom into his face. He bit at the fluid, closed his eyes in submission, and wondered where he had learned to lie.
As expected, the act of submission excited Solaa. She stepped on his face, pressed his head into the dirt, then bounded away from him to frolic with Caga and the others. It was not yet the season for mating, but their dance looked like mating.
Droon crawled away. Ahead, there was darkness and desert wind. Behind, there was Reaper blood and musk, screaming voices of too many males and throats clicking too fast. He paused on the ridge and summoned the wolves. Before he turned his back on Solaa’s pack, he saw her watching him.
Fear — terrible fear — gnawed at his gut. Droon hates fear. He crouched low and cursed his weakness. Does Droon dare betray Solaa? Is he strong enough to be king?
Too late to change his mind now. He ran with the wolves. Droon was fast, but not as fast as the Reapers who must pursue him. The Clingers fought him. The creatures challenged his mind when he was weak and attempted to fool him.
Several of the strongest wolves lingered and faced the Reaper camp. Brave creatures. Not like Droon. Not confused like Droon.
Just as he thought the strongest of his pack were gone, they ran to catch up, paused to howl at the moon, then bolted forward.
What is Droon doing?
He raised his face to the wind and waited for the scent of an ambush. The acidic musk of a nearby Yaz-yaz caused him to snort, but there was no sign of Solaa's Kindred.
Droon hated her.
Droon wanted her.
Something was wrong. He didn't understand the wormhole as Kin-rol-an-da and Cla-ven-da understood the twisting lights, but he knew there had never been such magic on Betaoin.
All wormholes are one.
Droon spun in a circle. The voice hadn't been in his head; it had been on the wind. Was Cla-ven-da near?
Clingers laughed in his mind like razors on rocks.
Droon listened to the words again, remembering Kin-rol-an-da's memories of a bright day on Crashdown with Cla-ven-da. He remembered a story she told, of taking the Mazz Imperials away from Crashdown. The winged woman had been many places far from Crashdown, far from Betaoin.
She could take Droon away from Solaa.
Or she could give Droon and Solaa the universe.
Cla-ven-da!
Thinking of Solaa and all the lesser queens threatened to steal the blood knowledge he had taken back from Kin-rol-an-da. Thinking of Solaa and the lesser queens made him realize that the time of mating had come to Betaoin and that all weak things must die.
He circled toward the slowest of Solaa’s growing pack.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Droon Zeabl
DROON killed rivals for his queen’s loins. Destroyed the treacherous Kindred following Droon to find Cla-ven-da.
Caga was the largest. He fed too often and hunted with too little skill. A good leader would drive him away and force him to survive in the Wasted Canyon alone. Maybe a brute like Caga could survive.
Caga is a plaything of Solaa. Droon will kill Caga.
He stomped on the Reaper’s head again, and again, and again. “Why does she hate Droon?”
“Solaa hate Droon. Solaa mate Droon!” Caga’s words were the color and texture of blood.
Droon stomped with his other foot, then alternated strikes until nothing remained of his victim’s face. When he squatted over the corpse, emptiness filled his mind and he could think. Gone were the memories of Droon’s many lives. With his sense of time reclaimed after finding Kin-rol-an-da, Droon understood how old he really was.
Like the water and the rocks and all the Kindred.
He scooped up brains. “Does Caga follow Droon now? Will Caga find Cla-ven-da now when Droon finds Cla-ven-da?” Sick in the pit of his stomach, Droon laughed.
Zykzym and Muzd were more clever than the Reaper that was too big. They let Caga die so they could see what Droon did to him. Big is stupid, Droon thought. The Burning One is big. Kin-rol-an-da helped fight the thing that was not a Reaper, then left Droon!
Beyond the next ridge, Solaa killed something that sounded human. Quickly. Solaa moves too quickly.
The Burning One approaches. Solaa flees its anger.
The too-big monster with a Slomn inside of it was not a Reaper, not a Slomn, not a human. It could not be a Winger or a cyborg. Droon could see the answer, almost. Pushing his eyes into tight slits and flexing his muscles did not force the answer from his mind. Droon struck himself — face, shoulders, and chest.
The force of each strike echoed across the canyons and deserts of Betaoin. No answers came. He ripped Caga’s arm from the torso, twisting and yanking several times to break the rope-like muscles and tendons. Staggering, falling, gripping his prize — Droon did not feel better. He flung the limb at the sky.
Maybe the Burning One is one of those who change. Droon snorted. He saw truth in the idea but laughed at the stupidity of such a thing. There were warriors among the changers — hard to find because they hid like cowards. No other changer was like the Burning One.
Solaa screamed for Zykzym and Muzd. They arose from the dirt, wounds only half healed. Both of the Reapers knew he was watching them, but neither issued a challenge as was right for a Reaper during war.
Zykzym and Muzd wince and squeal in pain. Droon clicked his throat and laughed. He watched them for a time to be sure they could no longer follow him and steal Cla-ven-da. Many times, Droon laughed at Solaa’s champions.
Droon is difficult to kill. Difficult to fool. Cla-ven-da is for Droon, not for Solaa’s tribe.
There existed in the dreams of many victims an emotion called sadness. Droon had seen it from a distance like a magical bird. He sat on a rock as the orange sun of his home world faded to darkness. Jagged mountains thrust up like thieves until there was nothing but stars. Droon relaxed. He quit resisting the memories and images in his mind, realizing that sadness was a frequent thing in his victims. He never saw it because fear and hate were louder.
What is the purpose of sadness? The emotion provided no energy. It did not motivate him to attack or flee. What kind of creature would feel this way?
Droon began a different hunt. Cla-ven-da had left her people behind. She would die. She was very sad. He searched for her because he was as sad as a Reaper could be.
Droon is weak. Solaa will kill Droon if she knows. Droon used several of the human words that Kin and his trooper friends used to express disgust. Solaa was not the problem; the Burning One would be his death. It is easier to think of Solaa Queen. Droon must survive the mating and take other lesser queens into his Kindred. Be king. Hunt. Kill. Terrorize all that are not Kindred.
The Long Hunt took Droon away from Betaoin, but he still understood the home world and was still the best of the Reaper hunters. He found Cla-ven-da alone. It was smart to watch her. And it was smart to search for Solaa, Zykzym, and Muzd to be sure they were not trying to trick him into revealing the winged princess to them.
“Droon, come to me,” Cla-ven-da said.
“Droon finds Cla-ven-da.”
She smiled. Her wings opened to catch starlight. The exterior feathers were black, glossy with reflected starlight. Inside, near her body, her wings sparkled like diamonds and rainbows. “You are good at hunting. I am good at hiding.”
“Droon does not understand creatures who hide. It is pointless. Death finds all creatures, even if they fly.”
“Yes, Droon.” She turned in a circle to view pieces of Hellsbreach visible in the nig
ht. “I wish you had not infected me with your poison. I might have ended this dark chronicle sooner without the need to fight for my sanity.”
“Droon thought Cla-ven-da would die. No living creature can escape the venom bond,” Droon said. He moved to her side and attempted to see what she was searching for in the night. He moved in front of her and forced her to look into his eyes. “Now Droon eats Cla-ven-da.”
He clicked his throat erratically.
Clavender drew back and laughed. “I dislike Reaper humor.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Droon throat-clicked. “Jokes like Kin-rol-an-da. But Droon would still feed on your fear.”
“I know you would,” she said, her voice quiet and losing strength but not conviction. “I am a healer. It is time we are free of each other.”
She moved forward and covered Droon with her wings. She held him with surprisingly strong arms. He could have resisted but did not desire freedom.
“Do not release Droon!”
She shuddered. Her wings convulsed, then clamped down so that Droon could not breathe. “What must be is what must be done,” she said.
“Cla-ven-da!”
Images of her people before they embraced war flooded Droon’s mind. There were battles seen from a distance; battles seen from very close; battles between Earth humans and Mazz humans. The first clash of Reapers and Slomn.
Many other things.
Cla-ven-da was older than Droon. She had traveled across many galaxies.
Droon released a long breath that made him feel as one with Betaoin. A quiet wave of power pushed the voices of the Clingers into darkness. They no longer fought against Droon.
Cla-ven-da.
She stood fifty long strides from Droon without seeming to move. Had she slid through the air with some magic or had she walked while Droon’s mind was confused? He did not care. Everything about the universe changed. Reality became different for Droon and it terrified him.
“We are no longer linked. Do not ask me who is released from whom. I warn you not to infect my destiny with your destiny. Attempt to poison me with your venom, and I will kill you.”
